ose shoulders stared through the rags of a
coarse cotton shirt; the man of all men to whom he was just then the
most unprepared to show patience.

VI.

TROUBLE

Outside it was growing dark. The bright red dot that, from the railed
housetop, you might have seen on the far edge of Turkey Creek
battle-ground, was a watch-fire beside the blackberry patch we know of.
Here sat Judge March guarding his wagon and mules. One of them was sick.
The wagon, under a load of barreled pork and general supplies, had
slumped into a hole and suffered a "general giving-way." While in Suez
the Judge had paid Cornelius off, written a note to be given by him to
Major Garnet, and agreed, in recognition of his abundant worthlessness,
to part with him from date, finally.

Yet the magnanimous Cornelius, still with him when the wagon broke, went
back to Suez for help and horse medicine, but trifled so sadly, or so
gayly, that at sunset there was no choice but to wait till morning.

John, however, had to be sent home. But how? On the Judge's horse,
behind Cornelius? The father hesitated. But the mulatto showed such
indignant grief and offered such large promises, the child, of course,
siding with the teamster, and after all, they could reach Widewood so
soon after nightfall, that the Judge sent them. From Widewood,
Cornelius, alone, was to turn promptly back----

"Well, o' co'se, sah! Ain't I always promp'?"--

Promptly back by way of Rosemont, leave the note there and then bring
the Judge's horse to him at the camp-fire. If lights were out at
Rosemont he could give the letter to some servant to be delivered next
morning.

"Good-bye, son. I can't hear yo' prayers to-night. I'll miss it myself.
But if yo' dear motheh ain't too ti-ud maybe she'll hear 'em."

It suited Cornelius to turn aside first to Rosemont.

"You see, Johnnie, me an' Majo' Gyarnet is got some ve'y urgen' business
to transpiah. An' den likewise an' mo'oveh, here's de triflin' matteh o'
dis letteh. What contents do hit contain? I's done yo' paw a powerful
favo', an' yit I has a sneakin' notion dat herein yo' paw express
hisseff wid great lassitude about me. An' thus, o' co'se, I want to know
it befo' han,' caze ef a man play you a trick you don't want to pay him
wid a favo'. Trick fo' trick, favo' fo' favo', is de rule of Cawnelius
Leggett, Esquire, freedman, an' ef I fines, when Majo' Gyarnet read
dis-yeh letteh, dat yo' paw done intercallate me a trick, I jist